Mixed Feelings
by Name Pen
Summary: Something weird must have happened when Harry was locked in a bathroom all day. Some OTP spoilers. Slash with a twist. R&R!
1. Foam Soap

Harry flushed, and walked out of the toilet stall, washing his hands in one of the elaborate old faucets. He was distracted, as usual, with the foamy soap, that seemed to come in infinate supply from the small stone container. He gave himself a handsome beard, and little devil horns sticking out from his unruly hair, and was halfway through a bushy unibrow when a glance at the bathroom clock brought him back to his senses, and he quickly cleaned up his mess. He frantically wiped his ink black hair with a paper towel, finally giving in and leaving it slightly wet and soapy, and grabbed his stuff, hoping he wasn't late to class.  
  
He grabbed the door handle and pulled, knowing Snape would take points off Gryffindor if he was late. While Malfoy regularly pranced in five minutes past the bell, Proffessor Snape was merciless when in came to punishing Harry. The memory of several days worth of cleaning cauldrens after class came back to him, and he knew that on top of that all the Gryffindors would hate him for putting them behind Ravenclaw. The door didn't budge. He jiggled the handle, and tried pushing on it. Harry started to panic. He must be doing something wrong; this door didn't even have a lock on it. He tried everything he could to get the door open, but no spell or any amount of brute force could move the door. By now he was quite late, and past worrying about what punishment Snape would hand out. At this rate he would probably be late for his next class. Maybe he would have to live in here for the rest of his life. Harry looked around sadly, and wished he hadn't chosen such a dingy bathroom to use. The prospect of sleeping on these floors made him sick to his stomach; oh well, he knew that at least he would always have a place to retch.  
  
Bored, he sat down crosslegged on the floor, which looked like it had not been cleaned for centuries, and finished some of his homework that he had been intending to do at lunch. Every five minutes he went back to the door and tried to open it, but nothing changed, not that he'd really expected anything to. There was no window in the second-story bathroom, but Harry could tell it would be getting dark outside by now; the clock read 7:00. His stomach groaned hungrilly, and he was really starting to worry when he heard a noise on the other side of the door. It could have been footsteps, but whatever it was, it was his only chance.  
  
"Hello! I'm in here! Can somebody help?" he said loudly, scrambling to the door. There was no response. He listened for several minutes, but there was nothing but silence. However, when he tried the door, after finally deciding that whatever was there before now was not, it opened quite smoothly, like it had just been installed that day. He burst from the room and ran down the hall, making straight for the Gryffindor common room. The halls were not crowded, but the few stragglers who he met acted strangely towards him. A group of first year girls stared at him as he passed, then turned and gasped, giggling nervously in a Freak-show Spectator fashion. Other witches and wizards, who normally would have smiled at him politely refused to make eye contact, and looked confused about how they should react to seeing him. Seamus Finnigan's reaction was the most perplexing of all. He looked shy and embarrassed, but full of some sort of relief and excitement at the same time as he walked right up to Harry, put his arm awkwardly around Harry's shoulder, and whispered in his ear: "Me too."  
  
Harry reached the portrait of the fat lady in a state of utter confusion, and Hermione and Ron, who were in the common room, appearantly waiting for him, acted oddly as well. Ron was unusually red in the face, and he turned away when he saw Harry.  
  
"Hey, mate," he muttered, not looking Harry in the eye.  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "Harry that was... that was unusual what you did this afternoon, but very brave." Harry wondered what she meant by that. Skipping potions? Since when did Hermione Granger ever compliment anyone for cutting class? But though it was out of her character, Harry wasn't that surprised. She had been acting abnormally since school started, strangely secretive around Harry.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry spat, his vibrant green eyes narrowed like a snake's. Emotions welled up inside. He hated how no one ever thought it was important to fill him in on the details. What was wrong with everyone today? Appearantly a lot had happened while he was stuck in the bathroom. Hermione's--and everyone's--strange behavior was sawing on his nerves. "How can--" A thought struck him. "Do you... do you have a crush on me Hermione?"  
  
"Of course not," she said, with a look on her face better suited to her character; one that said she was telling such an obvious truth that she was unsure of Harry's sanity for even questioning it.  
  
"You don't have to say it in that tone," Harry grumbled, both relieved and dissapointed. 'I've got Cho,' he reminded himself. Cho and Harry had been dating for the past few months, but the relationship was light; no snogging since that first kiss. He knew it would never work out with Hermione, and he had never even had any feelings for her, but it still hurt to hear her state so blatantly that she had no interest in him whatsoever.  
  
Hermione seemed put off. "But Harry, why on earth would I have a crush on you? We--we're really worried about you, and that's the whole point. You told everyone--I mean, it's hard to believe--but--"  
  
Ron looked up. "You're gay." 


	2. Sour Potatoes

"You think I'm... but..." Harry stuttered. "I'm not gay!" he managed to yell, taking deep breaths between words. No wonder everyone had been acting so strangely in the corridors. He wrung his hands in dispair. The whole school... when had he told the whole school he was gay?  
  
Ron looked confused, then angry. "What, is that just your idea of a good joke, then, announcing to the whole school that you're... you know... and then not really..." his voice trailed off. "We're here, trying to be good friends and be supportive and you come in yelling about how you are NOT gay.. like it's so..." Again he seemed to lose his emphisis at the end of the sentence. "It's not like it's such a big deal, though... being.. you know..."  
  
Harry's eyes widened, an entirely new possibility lighting up in his head. "You're not... are you...?"  
  
"No!" snapped Ron. He bit his lip. "George is," he added very quietly.  
  
Hermione, who had been dangerously quiet as all this was going on, spoke up, her inquisitive nature getting the best of her once again. "Really? I had know idea. My parents have a friend who's homosexual. He's really very nice. So you see, it's not as bad as you think, Harry, it's just sort of hard for us to get used to, you know... adjust our thoughts a little. Might take some time, but--"  
  
"--didn't hear what I said? I'm not gay! And I KNOW it's not a terrible thing, but it's also not me, and I don't know what you all think you heard or saw, but I was locked up in a bathroom for five hours this afternoon, and I NEVER SAID I WAS GAY!"  
  
Hermione pursed her lips, a sure sign she was getting impatient. "I think it is very immature that we are just sitting here talking about who's 'gay' or not. Perhaps we should just drop it for a while; it's clearly making the situation uncomfortable."  
  
"It's the subject at hand, Hermione," Ron said, sounding so much like Percy that it sent chills up and down Harry's spine. "I am hungry though; why don't we continue our conversation down in the Great Hall?" he added, perking up a bit.  
  
Harry followed Hermione and Ron down the massive stone staircases nervously, catching prolonged glances from other students walking the halls. Their footsteps echoed against the walls of the castle, impossibly loud. When they entered the Great Hall, the whole room fell silent. Presumably, most of the students had been talking about him before he came in, and now it was surely the one thing on everyone's mind. He cringed, waiting for torrent of snide remarks and cruel jeers from the Slytherin table. A quiet negative-toned chatter emerged from the table, but it didn't seem directed at him, just about him. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw followed suit, though many of the more polite house members tried to change the subject. Gryffindor was dead silent, and the wizards and witches shifted their gazes when Harry sat down. The only sounds to be heard over the soft buzz of voices coming from the other three tables was the clink of forks on glass plates and the occasional request for more potatoes. Everything tasted sour to Harry.  
  
He wondered if he could solve the problem by simply yelling: "I'm not gay!" at the crowd. In his heart he knew it would only make the problem worse, but it was difficult to tell himself that when all of these people were under an entirely false assumption.  
  
Or was it false? The most shaking thing about this whole ordeal was the questions it brought up in his own mind. Was he really who he told himself he was; who he told everyone he was?  
  
"I think I'll go back up to the common room, guys," he said bitterly, breaking the silence. "I'm not that hungry." 


	3. Collin Creevey

"Harry?" Hermione said quietly.  
  
Harry heard her, and went back to the passage he was reading in his Charms textbook. It seemed he'd been reading that same section over and over again for the past half hour, and never really comprehended any of it. He knew why. His thoughts were elsewhere, and his mind kept fluttering back to worries worries over.... that. But he thought that if he just read it one more time...   
  
"HARRY?" Came Hermione's voice again, louder. Nervousness bordered on fear. Hermione was worried too.  
  
"I'm here, Hermione, and I'm fine," Harry responded, opening the curtains around his bed. "Can't a boy have some privacy?" he said, half-jokingly.  
  
She smiled gently. "There's been a lot going on lately, and it hasn't just been today, it's been for the past four months, since we came back to Hogwarts. I think we both have a lot of explaining to do."  
  
Harry winced, feeling as though Hermione had just shoved a knife through his heart. "Yeah, well, it's been a bit hard to cope... and you were acting so weird," he struggled to say, as old wounds of the heart continued to bleed.  
  
"I suppose I should go first," she admitted. "On the first day of school, Collin Creevey approached me."  
  
"The Camera Boy?" Harry interupted.  
  
"Well he's outgrown that," Hermione said indignantly, "but... he said he needed a favor. He said he'd been stalked by Snape over the summer, and he needed my help to find out what was wrong. We kept finding all these clues... but we couldn't figure it out, and he convinced me that we needed... a Polyjuice potion, so that he could get to the bottom of it.. and--oh Harry, I feel so stupid!" Her voice broke, and she shivered, fearful of this strange emotion.  
  
Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. "Collin Creevey did it? But--what does he have against me?"  
  
"That's not the only thing, though. I felt so guilty for not telling you everything. We were researching in the library after hours, and discussing things, and eventually brewing a Polyjuice potion in that old girl's bathroom. Collin convinced me that if anyone found out we would get in huge trouble, and maybe even expelled, but that we just had to find out what was wrong with Snape. He had me convinced that Voldemort was controlling Snape, and he was spying on him to get... to you. We even made Myrtle keep her mouth shut.  
  
"But I still felt so bad, you know, keeping you in the dark about this. You must think I am some sort of idiot, going along with this, but really, Collin is very nice; I really got to know him over the past few months, and I can't imagine him doing anything like this just to hurt you!"  
  
"You don't have to imagine; you already saw it with your own eyes," Harry said sourly. "What else could it be?" He absently turned a coin around in his fingers, over and over again, across the smooth copper surface. He was in love with Cho. That was it.  
  
At that moment Ron stepped into the room, shoving the last of his cupcake into his mouth. "I've decided I believe you, Harry," he said.  
  
"Why the sudden change of heart?" Harry asked. "Was it the food?"  
  
"No," Ron answered. "It's because I saw you leave the Great Hall--twice." 


	4. Codfish Oil

"That rotton little imp!" Ron stormed, after Harry and Hermione had finished explaining to him the situation. "What's little Camera Boy got up his head that he thinks he can just say something like that? It's not just mean to you, Harry, you know... it's... an invasion!"  
  
"Calm down, Ron," Harry said. "We still don't know why he did it. Maybe he did have a better reason, though I've no idea what he thinks he's solving. But Hermione is convinced that he wasn't just trying to hurt me. And anyway, we don't even know for sure it was him yet..." He looked questioningly in Hermione's direction.  
  
She bit her lip. "Well... we finished the potion last night," she admitted. "And he didn't want me to stay and see who he became... he said it would give too much away."  
  
"Ha!" bellowed Ron. "As if we couldn't figure it out ourselves. It was so obvious... and then what was he doing back in the Great Hall, coming back for more, I suppose, trying to do more damage..." Ron was clearly infuriated.  
  
"You know, I think there's something really weird going on at this school.. maybe we should just wait for a few days and see how it turns out," Harry suggested. "Maybe I could spend a few days in the hospital wing, laying low, and you two could see if anything else happens."  
  
"As if there's not always something going on at Hogwarts," Ron snorted, but he agreed with the idea, and so did Hermione.  
  
"How are you going to get sick?" she asked in a worried voice.  
  
Harry smiled. "Just leave that to me."  
  
Seven years prior, when Dudley had turned nine, and a huge celebration had resulted, Petunia had spent hours cooking, making glorious cakes and puddings for the big boy. Harry had spent hours cleaning dishes. All they had given him that day was codfish oil, and that was also the day he had discovered he was allergic to the stuff. Not deathly allergic, but the reaction was startling. He'd gotten a terrible rash all over his body, his eyes watered terribly, and bright pink welts the size of grapes had appeared on his hands. Even with muggle medicine, it had taken days for the symptoms to recede. He hoped the wizard medicine wasn't too effective.  
  
"Ron, would you mind bringing me some codfish oil?" he asked.  
  
Ron made a face. "Eeew, mate, that stuff's horrible. Are you really going to eat it?"  
  
"Yup." Soon, Harry was covered, head to toe, in a puffy, blistered rash, and his eyes were so teary that he could barely see Hermione's face two feet in front of him. Bumps were beginning to appear on his hands, and they grew so quickly it was painful. Even worse was the bitter lasting taste of codfish, still in his mouth even after numerous rinsings in the dormitory's bathroom. "I think... I need to go to the hospital wing, Ron," he croaked, trying hard not to laugh.  
  
"You look terrible, Harry," Hermione said, squinting at him. "D'you want me to accompany the two of you down there?"  
  
"Sure," he agreed. "Happy spying!" 


	5. Stiff Sheets

Harry's breathing was raspy and rattled in his lungs through swollen lips. By the time they arrived at the hospital wing, his skin was already patchy and mottled. His hands were blistered red and shiny fit to burst. His eyes had swollen shut, and even if he tried to open them it was impossible; the dried tears held like glue. He was beginning to regret eating the codfish oil, but all he could do was see if Nurse Pomphrey had any cure. He felt his way to a bed and lay down on the cool white sheets. Really they could have been any color, and he would not have known, but he had been in here so often that he almost had the room memorized.  
  
"Um, you can go now, Ron," he said quietly, his voice crackly, unsure whether Ron was still there or not.  
  
"Bye," Ron responded, and in a swish of robes he was gone.  
  
Soon Harry heard Madam Pomphrey's heavy metel-toed shoes tap over to his bedside, and a cool hand fell upon his forehead. "No fever," she muttered. Harry heard the soft scratch of a pencil on paper as he lay there unable to do anything but inhale the sweet chemical smell that surrounded the nurse. "You'll be here for a couple days, Mr. Potter," she said, her voice unwavering. He wondered if she had heard the rumors.  
  
As he relaxed in the stiff hospital bed, dreading the make-up work he would have to endure in all of his classes, he wondered whether it had been the right thing to do. He longed to tell everyone the truth, to fight his way out of the lie that he had not created, but he knew he would only get more tangled up. He contemplated for hours; what more was there to do? It was mid-afternoon and the room was silent except for the slow melodic breathing of someone in a bed beside him, and he wasn't at all sleepy. There were so many thoughts buzzing through his head at once that he thought it might explode. It wasn't the first time he had had this sensation. Considering everything he had been through, he was being extremely selfish in this situation. He felt that he should be spending his time and energy trying to save the world yet again from the dark powers of Lord Voldemort, and that silly childish matters like this shouldn't have any effect on him. Nevertheless he was extremely hurt by the accusations.  
  
Harry reflected on the events of that day, his lips twitching into a makeshift smile in spite of himself as he noted the absurdity of the whole situation, and the confusion. It was something rarely spoken of in the world of Hogwarts, but the students, as accustomed to Muggle TV shows and slang as most of them were, certainly were all aware of it. Most of the people he had seen were shy and embarassed of the subject, but some had acted differently. In the rush of the day, Harry hadn't had time to contemplate their reactions. Seamus Finnigan had... Harry gasped sharply. He had never considered himself a homophobe, but, Seamus Finnigan? And now George too? How many others? Harry's head throbed. He wondered if he would ever be able to really get used to it. Now he could understand how the whole school felt. It was such a forign subject in what seemed like a sheltered environment. What a big blow to the security of Hogwarts! He could imagine it: the thing that did them all in would not be Voldemort and his army of dementors, but a faux-Harry Potter coming out of the closet. Harry wondered what had been going through Collin Creevey's mind when he did this. Didn't he realize the outbreak it would cause?  
  
Just as Harry was getting really worked up, the swish of Madam Pomphrey's robe beside his cot interupted his thoughts. "Sit up," she said curtly, and proceeded to spoon a warm liquid between his lips. It was momentarily sweet, but a bitter aftertaste remained on his tongue long after he had swallowed. He began to feel very drowsey, and fog filled his mind, slowing his thoughts. Who was gay now? What was the whole school in a jostle about? The sheets were wonderfully soft. Whatever was the matter, it could wait until morning. 


	6. Paints

Harry awoke feeling slightly better. He found that he could open his eyes, but not for very long as they would tear up at the light and become sticky again. His stomach reprimanded him for skipping supper the night before and he sat up, squinting at the food someone had placed at his bedside. The plate was piled high with crumpets and sliced peaches and fried eggs, which he proceeded to shove past his swollen lips at an alarming rate until his hunger was satisfied. Wiping his face, he looked around the room. It was deathly silent; only a couple beds besides his were filled, and the occupents were sound asleep, and there was little to do, but the scene was beautiful, with shafts of light pouring through windows high on the walls, and painting the stone floors gold. He almost wished he were a painter, so he could capture the simple beauty of the moment forever on paper and keep it for when life wasn't so beautiful. Upon thinking this, Harry's face burned, self-conscience of his own thoughts. Again, he silently questioned who he was. He could not be gay, he promised himself. He could not be.  
  
Ron arrived during mid-morning break, and brought with him a whole load of Charms homework. As he sat down at the end of the cot, he dropped several heavy books on Harry's toe.  
  
"OOW!" Harry yelled, clutching his foot. "Thanks for the warm greeting, FRIEND," he added, wiggling his toes and lying back down.  
  
Ron blushed. He knew that he hadn't wanted the welcome to seem too warm...  
  
Harry saw this, and turned away for half a second. He hated how things had changed. They both knew Harry was not gay, yet something had happened, and their relationship would never be the same.  
  
"What're you looking at, mate?" Ron asked.  
  
"Nothing," Harry replied. "Thought I.... saw something..." He took a breath. "Any news?"  
  
"Actually, yeah," Ron said. "Nothing big, but, everyone's been acting weird and there's so many rumors out. It's... well, not everyone when Collin... you know, announced it, so not that many people remember his exact words..."  
  
Harry groaned.  
  
"Yeah, well, the story's sort of gotten a little skewed..." Ron continued. "Some people are saying... you and Neville..."  
  
"Neville Longbottom!?" Harry choked. He closed his eyes. "I mean, I've nothing against him as a friend and all... but.... this is so awful."  
  
Ron bit his lip. "And Cho, they say she's missed her first and second classes. Someone said she was hanging out with Myrtle in that bathroom, and they were crying together. She's all mad at you because she thinks you were like, lying to her, leading her on and stuff. And some kids have been speculating and stuff, like why 'you' did it. And they say you were under some spell, or something... I don't know really, everything they're saying, but really, it's all anyone's talking about today. Sure glad it's not me," he added, shrugging.  
  
Harry had been sitting quietly, with his eyes glazed over. "Cho..." he said softly. A burning hate for Collin Creevey rose up in him. He had never known the boy as anything but a slight nuisance. But he had become something else, something inhuman. Who knew how much damage this could cause in Harry's whole life? He wondered more and more if Collin had known, really known, what he was doing. Known what he was getting into, and how badly this would hurt Harry. It seemed impossible that he hadn't known, but how could he have known and still done it? It occured to Harry that he might have been under some spell at the time, and not been in his right mind. Being muggle-raised, magical tampering was not always the first thing brought to mind in a situation like this. The possibility dawned slowly but was quickly swept away when Harry realized Collin had been working on this for more than a month. Most likely preparing, perfecting his plan. The downfall of Harry Potter, oh the glory. To ruin someone's whole reputation, especially someone who had saved your own life more that once. He simply could not understand it.  
  
A bell rang, and Ron stood up. "I've gotta get to class," he muttered. "See you at lunch; Hermione'll come too." And he walked slowly out of the room. 


End file.
